Et Tu, Buckbeak?
by WC43
Summary: Sequel to 'That Damn Owl.' Harry and Draco haven't spoken since that awkward morning-after, and it's going to take some more conspiracy to get them back together. A New Years shot of Drarry weirdness. Happy '09


Alright… So far I've gotten about five reviews on _That Damn Owl_, and I've been asked for a sequel, so let's do it. Ego Common sense.

It fits with most of those Harry-runs-into-Draco-passion-ensues-they-fall-asleep-in-love type fics, too, so I suppose it stands alone fairly well on its own, if you're not completely green to this whole slash business.

This is just fluff, fluff, fluff.

Emo, emo fluff.

I'm gonna try and throw some humor in there, so the damn thing doesn't get repetitive.

Happy New Years?

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**Et Tu, Buckbeak?**

---

Harry needed to get out of the castle, and he needed to do it fast. He was tired of seeing that damn boy's face around these halls, he was tired of Ron and Hermione making out, he was tired of Ron and Hermione disappearing to do more than make out, and he was tired of Hermione's knowing looks whenever she wasn't off with Ron. It was hell! He stormed out the doors of the castle, snow up to his knees, and trudged off towards the lake. Maybe the squid would get him and he could finally stop thinking about Draco.

There. He admitted it. He was thinking about Draco. He shuddered. That afternoon, when they had finally woken up, there was an instant change. Gone was the cool, easy confidence of the night before. They had stared, startled, into each others' eyes for a split second, then shot out of the bed, falling tangled and naked in the sheets on either side.

They had agreed, after they had been unable to find their wands in the large room, that they had been confused by the cold and had been acting outside of their own will, clinging to the heat around them. It had been, they insisted, nothing. They parted after finding their wands to 'accio' some new clothing, dressing in awkward silence and agreeing to tell no one. Harry hadn't seen the other boy for the rest of the day.

That evening, however, Draco had made his appearance in the great hall, and Harry hadn't been able to take his eyes off of him. The candlelight flickered softly over his chiseled features, and his hair shone like gold. When Malfoy's eyes met his, however, Harry jerked his eyes away, scowling down at his mashed potatoes. Why couldn't that damn boy leave his thoughts alone?

Six days later, Harry's thoughts hadn't changed. Draco still plagued his mind. Their eyes continued to snag on each other in the halls, holding them together for that silent moment in time until something tugged them free. Days were filled with memories of the time spent in Draco's arms, and the night with imaginings of what else could come. Harry's mind filled with every possibility of their reunion – cave ins, attacks upon the school, detentions, cross-class teambuilding exercises, potions accidents, a fight gone astray. Once Draco was a Veela, and Harry his destined mate. Another Harry was a vampire, and only Draco's blood satisfied him. There were spells that bound them together, and meddling from every character in their united stories. They lived in different worlds, sometimes, or were grown up and out on the town, meeting in clubs and falling in lust once again.

Harry had cast an 'impermeable' on his boxers soon enough, and a silencing charm on his bed curtains. A lube charm that had been scratched into the bedpost was finally put to use, common sense finally being outweighed by unbearable necessity. He couldn't get the stupid blonde out of his head.

Moreover, he sensed deep in the pit of his stomach that the other boy didn't want him back. He could see it in his eyes when he looked away, the frown on his face, the angle of his shoulders.

It was for this that Harry decided he needed to get the hell out of the castle, do them both a favor, and get over Malfoy.

He veered off, away from that damned forest, and walked towards the whomping willow. Maybe a visit to Hogsmeade would fix him up. It's not like he had classes to go to. It was still break, and everything around the castle just reminded him of that stupid ferret. One charmed twig and a lot of dirt later, Harry was in the Hog's Head, paying far too much for a few shots of fire whisky, both due to his age and the fact that he kept spilling them.

---

Draco was on the roof of the astronomy tower, overlooking the forest where he and Harry had begun their tryst. He was feeling wistful today, instead of the usual burning denial. He had been just as shocked as Harry when they had woken up, and had jumped out of the bed with equal speed, so why did it seem that he was the only one still interested? He saw the lust flicker through Harry's eyes that night at dinner (and had spent the time before that trying desperately not to go jump the poor lad), but it had changed to regret, and then disgust, and then Harry had looked away…

Now, soppy emotional drabble aside, Draco was feeling scorned. Draco didn't like feeling scorned. In fact, he was positive that Harry was the only one who had ever made him feel scorned. And Malfoys didn't allow repeat offenders. He groaned. It appeared they did this one time, for there was no way to stop Potter's scorn unless he seduced him again, and that just would not be happening. Malfoy stood up and summoned his broom. He would be going home. Now.

---

Harry decided that he was being rash. This whole _thing_ was rash, and he only wanted Draco because he couldn't have him. Yes. He sighed, walking through the streets of Hogsmeade hopelessly. Everything was closed, now, as it was New Years Eve. And he was a fool.

Hours later, he squeezed himself into the only place he could think of to go and settled down. It was the small cave in which Sirius and Buckbeak had once hidden themselves from the Ministry, and it now hid Harry from the cold wind and colder stares of the Slytherin prince. Starting a small fire with his wand, he settled back for a nice evening alone. He would sit up here in the wilderness and purge himself of the Malfoy, like the spirit journeys some magical people had used to go on, now only held in the memory of books and one Hermione Granger. Settling in with a book and a blanket he had summoned from the castle, along with a bottle of wine and a loaf of bread he had purchased from Tom the barman. He would relax now and return to the castle a pure man.

---

Draco arrived home damp and miserable. The snow had been falling quite steadily, melting into his expensive cloak and washing his hair product into his eyes. It was only when he tumbled onto the perpetually green lawns of Malfoy Manor that he realized that no one was there to greet him except a few grumbling elves, and that there wasn't even a good reason he should go inside. He trudged off through the yard, arriving at the edge of a stunning bluff that had been chosen for military advantage. It now served merely as a pedestal from which the noble house of Malfoy could look down upon the world, which is what the slender heir decided to do. He would rest there until he felt ready to make the trip back to Hogwarts, since there was nothing to do here, either.

Gazing off into the starry night sky, Draco pondered the passage of time. It was the end of another year, his final at Hogwarts. It was this year, however, that had brought about such immense change. Voldemort had fallen, Draco had been freed, and life had cleared for their future. There were a meager few months left in their schooling before they were set free, baby birds finally being pushed out of the nest. Looking up at the stars from his perch, Draco felt far too small to be on his own.

Spying a hawk wheeling in the distance, far later than any would usually be awake, Draco sighed peacefully. He would merely ride the currents for now, choosing his time to take full wing. Laying back and closing his eyes, he relaxed and focused on his heart beating rhythmically against his ribs. This was merely a point in time, and life was going on smoothly again. The year had reached its climax with the Potter fiasco, as he decided it was best phrased, and it would start fresh and new again after midnight. Now, if only Draco could get his mind off those soft lips. And those sparkling eyes. And that gentle smile. And that hair that would feel so good in his hands if he could…

Draco was jerked out of his reverie by the flap of wings. The falcon he had spotted earlier was not, as he thought, a simple bird of prey. It appeared to be much larger, and had rather odd looking legs. Draco, still groggy from his deep thoughts, gave up on trying to identify its species and moved on to wondering why it seemed to be getting bigger at such an alarming rate.

Then it hit him.

---

Harry had fallen asleep clutching his wine bottle, clothes all akimbo and glasses shoved halfway up his face. It was the clack of claws on the cave floor that awoke him, rather rudely, he thought, and he jerked up to a seated position. Pulling his glasses down over his eyes, he waited as a familiar creature came into focus.

"Buckbeak?" he murmured, curious as to why his feathered comrade would appear so suddenly. He wondered if perhaps this was still his home, or if he had forgotten something.

The beautiful beast bowed his head, and Harry reflexively bowed back, his eyes catching on the piece of fabric that dangled in the creature's beak. Green silk, emblazoned with the two letters that pulled at Harry's heartstrings like no other. DM. Draco. He stood with startling speed, wobbling until the blood rushed back into his head.

Hero complex in full gear, Harry strode towards the still bowed hippogriff.

"Take me to him."

---

As they flew, Harry's mind ran through all of the terrible things that could have happened to the youngest Malfoy. It seemed rather fond of listing these things off, thought Harry bemusedly. He could've been attacked by and angry death eater, or another student, or Ron could have found out what had happened between them… His father could've been seeking revenge, or Crabbe and Goyle could've betrayed him, or Pansy could've poisoned him to get him under her power. Perhaps some bigoted muggers in a dark alley had realized what he was. Perhaps he had been in a club and fallen under the wrong man's spell. It went on and on until Harry forced it off. Thinking of the possibilities did nothing for him.

The flapping of Buckbeak's wings shifted suddenly, and he was thrown onto a soft patch of grass near a cliff. He felt a strange lump beneath him and shifted around, only to hear the most beautiful sound that he would ever know.

"Come back here with my tie, you blasted bird!"

---

Draco stared at the retreating hippogriff's figure, still pinned down by whatever the thing had dropped on him. If it thought that some dead thing would make up for that damn expensive tie, it thought _wrong_. Draco scowled and tried to shove the thing off, only to find that it was, in fact, hugging his legs, wearing the biggest grin he had ever seen.

His breath caught at the sight. "Potter?"

"You ARE alive!" bellowed the boy around his legs, who buried his face into the other's crotch with the attitude of a young child snuggling its head into a new puppy.

Draco's heart felt like it was going to explode with joy. There it was, the body he had been longing for, wrapped like a second skin around the area that so wanted to give him attention. Draco's cock strained against the fabric of his pants, and Harry froze. Draco felt his body stiffen as he realized what was going on, and they both scrambled away.

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly. "Er, sorry, it's just that… I, eh… Buckbeak had your tie, and I…. I know you wouldn't just be going around handing clothes to mythical creatures… and, well, I'd had a bit of wine… thought you were… ah…"

Draco laughed despite himself, charmed by the looks of utmost embarrassment on the boy-hero's face. "You thought I was hurt because you found my tie?"

Harry looked offended. "Well yeah!" he blurted. "It's not every day you get delivered someone else's clothing and it's…" he paused. "Why _did_ he have your tie?"

"I've no clue. Damn bird just took it when he flew away."

Harry snorted. "So now there taking _souvenirs_? Damn, Malfoy, you've really got a brisk business going."

Draco scowled. "It wasn't like _that_. He appeared out of the blue and took my damn tie. I'm not a _slut…_ And I don't do _animals_. Eww."

Harry laughed, a whole-hearted laugh that even Draco couldn't take as cruel, although he still held on to his defense.

"Contrary to what _you_ seem to think, Potter…" Draco cursed his argumentative nature. He had nothing to finish that with… Suddenly, he was struck by genius. "…I don't _do_ just anyone…" He stepped forwards predatorily, grinning as Harry paled. Draco found that, even if Potter was disgusted by his feelings, he would have fun no matter what. It may have been emotionally abusive to himself, but Draco was having a damn good time teasing the green-eyed wonder that so haunted his thoughts.

He was not prepared, however, for the other boy's next reaction. There was suddenly a very soft pair of lips attached to his, a very wandering hand untucking his shirt, and a very firm bulge pressed against his groin. It seemed, thought Draco as his senses shorted out, that he had underestimated his powers of seduction. From disgust to this was a very long step. Or maybe the other boy was just calling his bluff? Doubt filled Draco as he pulled back, trying to discern the truth in the other boy's eyes.

"I don't care if you don't want me anymore," groaned the boy before him, and Draco 's head nearly exploded. Him, not want Harry? "But I want you. And I'll do anything to make you want me back."

Draco looked deep into the other boy's eyes, now sparkling with need and tender fear of rejection. Unable to find the correct words, Draco reaffixed his lips to Harry's, hoping that the other boy would get the message. He picked up the gauntlet with gusto, and soon Draco pulled away, resolved to do what he now knew he needed to.

"Potter," he whispered, and the other boy's eyes lit with lust at the tone. Just that look made Draco throb with desire. "I don't know when this all started, and I don't know why, but I think I'm in love with you. Or at least crazy for you. Now, this may sound stupid, and I hope I'm not the only one here, but I think it d—" Draco was cut off by the softest kiss he had ever received. It brushed over his lips like a ghost, and he was stunned silent.

"It's perfect, you're perfect," whispered Harry in his ear, nibbling the lobe gently. "Now shut it. You're rambling, and that mouth has better things it can be doing."

Draco was stunned. And immensely turned on. He liked dirty-talking Harry.

"Yes sir," he said, letting his voice rumble across Harry's collar bone as he the other boy's tie and set to work on the buttons. Then he snapped up and grinned. He grabbed Harry by the tie and tugged. "But first, a tour."

Harry looked dumbfounded. "Wha?"

Draco grinned seductively. "We could be out here… or we could be in my bedroom…"

Harry grinned back, enlightenment dawning in those sparkling green eyes.

As Draco pulled his prize back into the Manor, he realized he had reached a small speed bump. The house wasn't quite empty, and the elves held no secrets for him. He had learned that the hard way when he was eleven and had just learned the magics of his own palm. He smiled again and disentangled himself from Harry.

"I think we can start here," he declared, and he pulled off the Gryffindor's tie and tossed it to the most unpleasant of the elves. Terror dawned on the elf's face. "You all'd better clear out for the week," growled Draco, "or it'll be the same for the lot of you." They apparated away instantly, and Harry chuckled.

"Parents?" he asked gently.

"Lithuania," moaned Draco, pulling his pet up the grand staircase.

"Ah," said Harry, and allowed himself to be dragged along.

---

As they reached the top of the stair, however, they were startled by the ringing of a grand old clock somewhere deep in the house. It was midnight. Harry looked into Draco's eyes, glistening and sparkling like gray diamonds. He pressed his lips to the beautiful man in front of him.

"Happy New Years, Draco," he purred.

It was going to be a good year.

---

Back at Hogwarts, Buckbeak rested in the forest, contentedly recounting his story to the gathering around him. The owls hooted with joy, the unicorns tossed their silvery manes, and even the centaurs had to admit it was a touching story, if not a little uncomfortable for some of the stodgier males.

Pigwidgeon gave the hippogriff a reluctant nod. He'd lost some serious owl-points when the two had stopped talking to each other, and he supposed he had needed the help. But still. He sighed a little owl sigh. There was always Valentine's day.

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Fin.

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End file.
